


In the Forest

by foreignobjecticus



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: GPSC zine, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreignobjecticus/pseuds/foreignobjecticus
Summary: By Anonymous. Blake comforts Avon after an injury sustained planet-side.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3
Collections: The House Always Sins





	In the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> From the GPSC’s fanzine _**THE HOUSE ALWAYS SINS**_! Download the full fanzine [**here**](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1kX3N29d5B2Cdj3Ph00Cf8vwElL6FOPjJ/view?usp=sharing) for amazing art, great games, and fabulous filk. Join the _Gauda Prime Social Club_ Discord server [**here**](https://discord.gg/nvcHh8xTPe)!

Avon’s breath comes out in short, sharp gasps. He lies clutching his arm while Blake slides in close, spooning him on the cold, wet floor of the forest.

“Just hold still,” Blake kisses up behind Avon’s ear, lips against his damp, sweaty hair.

“Like I’m going to move anywhere in a hurry _ouch_ —“

“Sorry,” Blake murmurs as he bumps against Avon’s arm while unzipping Avon’s surface suit. He tugs it over Avon’s thin hips roughly, exposing his pale white skin to the dirt and leaves below. Avon wriggles to let Blake pull his trousers down to his knees, and a large hot, hand wraps around his limp cock, squeezing, pulling the foreskin back and forth in short little jerks between curled fingers, pumping Avon up. 

“You not interested?” Blake smirks against Avon’s ear as he feels the organ in his hand throb and fill, spreading his fingers apart as it thickens. 

“I’m _injured_ ,” Avon hisses out in reply and his tongue catches in his teeth as he grows sensitive, clenches his muscles, and leans into it with a gentle rock of his hips. 

“Good boy, Avon, that’s it,” the man behind him chuckles, deep, rumbling against his ear and pressing his soft torso against Avon’s back. The bulge of his erection is already straining through the thick surface suit. “That’s it. You’re such a good boy. Nice and easy, now. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

Avon gasps, biting back a low moan, the sound of flyers in the distance keeping him quiet and he hopes they won’t pick up the heat building between them as they search. The _Liberator_ will be back soon...

Avon shakes a little, trembling with the adrenaline of his injury still coursing through him and he bucks into Blake’s hand, earning himself a delicious squeeze. Fingers curl around the tip of his cock, stroking over the too-sensitive tip, bringing him almost to full hardness in Blake’s hand despite the pain in his arm. 

“So good for me,” Blake keeps murmuring in his ear, and the praise boils his blood. 

_“Yesssss_ ,” he breathes out, pushing back into Blake’s body, the hand at his front circling down his shaft, solid now and curved, jutting from his lean hips, reaching towards the hand that guides him, pleasures him, cock thick and ready.

“My good, good boy...”

Avon growls, a tremble in his thighs as he shifts in the dry leaves, turning a little, but Blake holds him back with his other hand, so much warmer on his hips. 

“No, stay like that,” he commands in a voice that brooks no argument, and Avon swallows back the obedient yes on the tip of his tongue. Blake’s other hand disappears back to his own crotch by the feel of it — the bigger man behind him jerking a little, pulling his own trousers down just far enough to free his own engorged cock and balls, giving himself a few quick, inelegant tugs to make sure he’s thick and full and ready. Blake’s hand on Avon mirrors the one on himself and Avon cries out at the sudden, rather brutal treatment — Blake must prefer a stronger hand, something to wrangle that monster of a thing — and it’s all Avon can do to stop himself yelling when a flyer skims overhead, search lights missing them entirely where they’re hidden in the dense undergrowth. 

“Blake!” Avon gasps out, meaning to sound a warning, but it comes out more like begging, voice tight and high. In response, Blake just laughs, his voice echoing through his broad chest and into Avon, warm and rich, and he wants more, needs it. 

Blake’s hand runs down his shaft and soon those blunt, clever fingers are dancing across his sack, pulling the hot, loose skin up, gathering both their balls in unison. Avon spreads his legs as far as they can go with the trousers cinching his knees, and Blake’s hand dips between Avon’s thighs to cup them both, holding them a moment, admiring the weight, tugging ever so lightly against the fullness...

Avon can feel Blake struggle to mirror the action on himself, fingers wriggling against Avon’s lower back as Blake shoves his hand between his solid thighs and the trousers only just sitting off his hips, but in a moment he manages, and with a satisfied grunt, Avon feels him press his swollen cock and balls into his back, cock nestling into the groove of Avon’s arse cheeks, inviting. 

“There are _flyers_ , Blake!” Avon tries to admonish again with his tight voice, but he’s cut off by a particularly sensuous rubbing of Blake’s fingers that reduces him to a senseless murmur. 

“You were saying?” the deep voice behind him is all satisfied smiles and Avon hates it, but he can’t bring himself to care all that much when Blake’s hand is massaging him like that. He thrusts his hips up, precum beading on the tip of his cock and rolling over the rounded head, quivering at Blake’s touch. When the hands on him relent and travel back up his shaft, they pause, caught momentarily in the feeling of warm slickness, and lips are on his ear once more. 

“You’re wet for me, Avon,” the soft lips caress him and a tongue darts out to delve into his ear, making Avon shake and pull away, but strong arms keep him down. He cries out when Blake presses against his injury. This time there is no sorry. Instead, the cock at Avon’s arse starts to move, sliding up and down his crack, teasing, pressing insistently at his cheeks but not entering, and Avon rocks with the movement, thrusting himself slowly into Blake’s hand. His movements grow faster, more frantic as Blake’s fingers tighten, cinching around his cock until it’s tight, tighter than ever before, and the urge to thrust and fuck and grind into that huge, hot tunnel overtakes Avon’s brain. Guided entirely by instinct, he gasps, breath growing shorter and sharper, his cock leaking a steady dribble of precum, lubricating Blake’s hand, and Blake’s fingers begin moving, changing the shape he’s thrusting into, making every stroke different, wrong, he can’t _quite_ get—

“Blake!” Avon growls and hisses properly this time, frustration making him sharp, and he thrashes, intending to turn. A hand on his neck stops him dead, and he feels Blake’s lips suck little love bites along the back of his neck, making him shiver, calming him, holding him steady against the surging wave of lust _crying_ out for him to thrust into Blake’s hand until he explodes. 

“You’re such an eager thing, aren’t you, my pet?” Lips graze along his jaw, and he feels Blake shift, cock dragging against his arse as he rises just high enough to look over Avon’s body. Blake gasps, though it seems put on, but the sound makes Avon tremble, cock twitching in the cage of Blake’s fingers. He opens his fingers, realising Avon’s cock, and the both of them groan for entirely different reasons. 

“Please, put it back—” Avon begs, quiet, a high whine, and he rocks gently, obedient, knowing Blake’s game. He feels a surge of pride when Blake responds with a little chuckle. 

“Look at you, pet, such a good, eager boy. Look how wet you are — my hand is soaked.” Blake punctuates his praise with a kiss to Avon’s jaw, careful not to press his body against the injured arm on his side. “And look at your cock—” Blake slides his hand up and down Avon’s cock slowly, letting the heavy weight glide across his slick palm. 

He turns his hand a little to gather up the full balls below, and Avon positively whines when he feels Blake’s damp forefinger slip below to press against the skin between his balls and the tight opening beyond. 

“ _Flyers, Blake_ —” Avon gulps hard, eyelashes fluttering against his damp, sweaty cheek, and he trembles as the fingers between his legs glide back over his balls. 

“Don’t worry about the flyers. I’m not going to fuck you today. Pity; my poor boy is ready for it, I can feel it. You are, aren’t you?” 

Avon whimpers. 

“Please—”

“You’re so full, aren’t you? Ready to cum for me?” Blake’s fingers rub over his balls and Avon can feel Blake’s cock throbbing against his back. Unexpected lips capture Avon in an awkward, sideways kiss before the bigger man slips back down behind and lines himself up, the head of his cock nestled between tight arse cheeks.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you, pet?”

Avon nods against the lips at his ear once more, and Blake’s hand slowly curls around his shaft, fingers locking into a punishingly tight circle. 

“Are you?”

“Yes—”

Avon groans low in his throat and keens as Blake’s hand starts pumping fast, slicking up and down his swollen, aching cock — sudden hard strokes that knock the air from his lungs. 

“Good boy, good good boy, feel it building—”

He’s vaguely aware of the praise, words murmured into his ear, and the thick cock rubbing rough against his arse, glowing slick with sweat and Blake’s own precum as he grinds his plush hips harder into Avon. The hand on his shaft grows tighter still, and Avon is carried away in the pull and push and thrust and jerk of cock and arse and lips on his ear, strained praise and begging and cooing and _good good boy, so thick, so ready for me, cum, my pet, let me feel you cum for me_ — 

Avon’s balls pull up tight against his body and his cock swells, aching, hard in Blake’s wonderful hand, pushing and growing and leaking and—

“ _AHH—!_ ” gushing white hot cum across the ground, cumming and cumming forever. Avon’s head swims against the sensation and the adrenaline still stirring in his blood, oblivious to the pain as Blake hugs him tight and cums against his arse, hot spurts between his clenched, hard cheeks growing cool and sticky even as the cock that made them slips away. Avon’s hole aches with a phantom twinge like it missed out, teased when Blake’s cock had come so close to breaching him. 

He feels like he’s still gushing over Blake’s fist when they reluctantly pull away, releasing his softening cock and leaving white marks where fingers had held him so tightly. His cockhead is still purple from the blood trapped by Blake’s hand, and he shudders involuntarily as it begins to flow again. 

The sounds of their heavy breathing slowly come into focus as the ringing in Avon’s ears dulls to a throb. The flyers have gone, and in the growing twilight, bugs begin chirping. Blake belatedly drops himself to the ground behind him and laughs, a rich, happy tone that Avon can’t help but smile in response to. 

“Arm feel better?” he pants, chest heaving, and he reaches for some leaves to clean off the evidence of their game. Avon affects a scowl but he can feel it lacks bite. 

“Not after you leaned across it.”

“You didn’t complain at the time.”

“I did—”

The _Liberator_ bracelets on their wrists chime in unison, and Avon’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t trust his own voice just yet, so he’s relieved when Blake responds. Avon stuffs himself back into his trousers hastily, clumsy with the use of only one hand, and is grateful when Blake leans over to help him tug his trousers up, his own already dealt with.

“There. Respectable.”

“There are leaves in places I never want leaves again, Blake—”

This time, Blake throws his head back and lets out a lets out a hearty laugh that echoes through the forest long after their silhouettes disintegrate into nothing.


End file.
